


The long dance

by orphan_account



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:09:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8170985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Batjokes prompt; "Darlin', save the last dance for me?"-ish? can't remember, this was written during a word war some time ago~





	

“Oh darling, what trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?”

 

Bruce had never been happier to hear the clown’s voice. He looked down and glared at the blood seeping out from his triple-weaved kevlar suit, pushing down at the stab wound in a  pathetic attempt to stop the bleeding. It didn’t help.

 

“Silly bat,” Joker lowered himself to wrap Bruce's arm around his neck and pick him up from the wet and bloodied pavement. Bruce groaned, turning his face riddled with pain away from the Joker. “Hold on Bats, Joker is here to fix all your problems! Well, maybe not  _all_  of your problems. You have too many if we're being brutally honest here and,” Joker paused to press against the wound, causing Bruce to let out a groan. "We are most definitely being brutal."

 

Bruce limped down the alley, letting the clown carry most of his weight despite the yelling in the back of his head to not let his guard down like this, to try and find a way to contact Alfred despite the broken communications. But he knew there was no point at this point, eventually Joker had landed them in an old warehouse, laying Batman down on the cold ground. Bruce stared incredulously as the madman pulled out a first-aid kit from nowhere.

 

“You think I go around calling myself the Joker without a couple of tricks up my sleeve?”

 

He sighed, letting him remove his armor and pull up his shirt, revealing the crimson wound on his lower abdomen. There’s a hissing sound, and it took Bruce a few moments to realize it was the Joker hissing, not him. He looked up to find the smile on Joker’s face gone, replaced with a deep frown, and he was surprised at how much that made his chest ache.

 

“It’s looking a bit nasty here darling...”

 

The clown treated his wounds, groans and hisses being let out as alcohol was seeped into the gash. Joker let out a low chuckle, the glee from having a vulnerable Batman in his hands back from before. Bruce couldn’t tell if it was arousal or pain that caused his stomach to heat up when he heard the sound.

 

“You know, I’d much rather have you without the armor and letting out these sounds under ah, _different,_  circumstances.” Bruce gritted his teeth, trying his hardest not to let his cheeks redden at the thought.

 

“Shut up.”

 

The Joker grinned and continued to treat his wounds, applying stitches and bandages, all while Bruce continued to groan, hiss and protest.

 

“I’m not gonna let you die today Bats,” the Joker said, suddenly completely serious, patting the bandages as if he was admiring his own work. He was starting to lose his vision, not realizing the Joker had injected drugs while he was focused on the pain. “So darling, save the last dance for me?”

 

Bruce blacked out, but not before feeling a pair of lips pressing against his, and using his remaining strength to press back.


End file.
